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'She is far better as she is,' concluded Adele, after musing some
time: 'besides, she would get tired of living with only you in the
moon. If I were mademoiselle, I would never consent to go with you.'
'She has consented: she has pledged her word.'
'But you can't get her there; there is no road to the moon: it is
all air; and neither you nor she can fly.'
'Adele, look at that field.' We were now outside Thornfield
gates, and bowling lightly along the smooth road to Millcote, where
the dust was well laid by the thunderstorm, and where the low hedges
and lofty timber trees on each side glistened green and
rain-refreshed.
'In that field, Adele, I was walking late one evening about a
fortnight since- the evening of the day you helped me to make hay in
the orchard meadows; and as I was tired with raking swaths, I sat down
to rest me on a stile; and there I took out a little book and a
pencil, and began to write about a misfortune that befell me long ago,
and a wish I had for happy days to come: I was writing away very fast,
though daylight was fading from the leaf, when something came up the
path and stopped two yards off me. I looked at it. It was a little
thing with a veil of gossamer on its head. I beckoned it to come